


We Carry On

by geckoholic



Category: Hawkeye (Comics), Marvel 616
Genre: Developing Relationship, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Grief/Mourning, Remix
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-24
Updated: 2018-09-24
Packaged: 2019-07-16 00:27:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16074542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/geckoholic/pseuds/geckoholic
Summary: Kate takes Clint to visit her mom's grave.





	We Carry On

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [This is Not a Request](https://archiveofourown.org/works/4060855) by [WriteItSmall (scribblemyname)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/WriteItSmall). 
  * In response to a prompt by [scribblemyname](https://archiveofourown.org/users/scribblemyname/pseuds/scribblemyname) in the [remixrevivalmadness2018](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/remixrevivalmadness2018) collection. 



> See? Told you I considered a bunch of your drabbles for remixes. ;D
> 
> Unbeta'd, so all mistakes are most definitely mine. 
> 
> Title is from "Take A Little Time" by Starsailor.

Clint got in late – so late, in fact, that _late in the night_ had melted into _early in the morning_. He didn't sleep so much as drift in and out of a light slumber, and now the apartment is warm and he can feel the afternoon sun tickling his back, and he's not at all surprised when the bed dips with a familiar weight. 

She lifts the blanket and climbs in, snuggling up against his side. Clint merely buries his face deeper into the pillow. He loves her, he does, loves the warm weight of her against his own body, loves the way her hair tickles his bare skin. But he doesn't want to be awake yet, Kate or no Kate. 

And Kate shakes her head indulgently, like he's a child pretending the world can't see him yet if he doesn't open his eyes to allow it back in, and gently runs her fingers through his short blonde hair. “Clint?” 

He lifts his head just enough so his voice isn't entirely muffled by the pillow. “Hm?” 

There's a pregnant pause, then a light tug at his hair, not at all painful, just a silent request for him to finally bring his head up all the way and blink at her, sleepily, but with an eyebrow raised to as encouragement for her to speak. 

“I need to introduce you to my mom,” she says, her voice quiet, her gaze finding his and holding on like she's lost at sea and his presence will keep her from downing. She swallows. They both know what this means, and that she's not talking about a Sunday evening dinner date. 

He's all the way awake, maybe a little bit panicked, in an instant. “What?” 

Kate rolls her eyes, and it's good, it's reassuring, her being fondly annoyed at him is well-trodden territory. It's better than having seen her momentarily lost just a moment ago. “I'll take a shower and get dressed. I'll wake you up again in time to get ready yourself.”

Yeah. Sure. Like he could fall back asleep _now_. But if he shows that he's nervous, he'll make her nervous again. So he groans and pulls the blanket back over his head, and she ruffles his hair one more time before she stands and leaves for the bedroom. 

 

***

 

Kate lets him drive. She makes him stop at a flower shop near the cemetery but insists she go in alone, and she reappears with a small arrangement of white lilies and chrysanthemums, clutching the basket with both hands. He doesn't say anything as she gets back into the passenger seat, the flowers kept securely in her lap, and nudges his arm to make him restart the car. 

At the cemetery, she hooks her arm underneath his and leads him down the sandy path between the graves. The Bishop family has a tomb, engraved with bible citations and small chubby angels and other symbolic nonsense, and he swallows hard as he follows her into the crypt. Inside, each individual grave is marked with a plate, and it doesn't take him long that says _Eleanor Jane Bishop_ in a beautiful, light font, and carries the dates of her birth and her death underneath the name, alongside with an inscription that references both Kate and her father. 

The same father that disavowed Kate. The same father that sent a killer after Clint. 

“Do you – “ Clint starts asking, and Kate shakes her head. She sets down the flowers, reaches for his wrist and kneels, pulling him down with her. He catches another glimpse of the dates on the plate, looks closer, and realizes that the date of birth matches today. It's – it would have been her birthday. 

“Hey mom,” Kate says with a sad, melancholic smile. “This is Clint. I should have introduced you to him earlier, but... A lot has happened. Living with him isn't exactly quiet. I like it, though. And I like him, a lot.” She glances his way, squeezing his hand, and Clint keeps himself very quiet, very still. “We keep each other safe,” Kate continues. “And happy. I'm safe and happy, mom. Because of him. I just wanted you to know that.” 

Instinct tells Clint to argue – she's the one who keeps him safe, keeps him _alive_ , some days, and certainly she's the one who keeps him happy – but even he knows that would be inappropriate. That's why he shuts his mouth, only squeezes Kate's hand right back, running his thumb over the back of her hand in what he hopes is a soothing motion. 

Kate sighs and tilts to the side, unsteady, and Clint rearranges them until they're sat with their backs to the plates, Kate gathered against his chest. Her hand keeps stroking the plate with her mother's name. She's not crying, but her throat is working constantly, which means she might be swallowing tears, biting them back. He both understands and really doesn't; he doesn't miss his parents, hasn't in a long time, too much resentment and hurt clouding his memory of both of them, but he knows how it feels to have a tombstone and a blank space where there used to be a parent. He knows grief. He know loss. 

And he knows there's nothing he could say to make it better. He'll just sit with her, here, for as long as she needs. That's all he can do, and he hopes it will be enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on [tumblr](http://lostemotion.tumblr.com) or [twitter](https://twitter.com/spacenerdz).


End file.
